


Midnight House Call

by FredGodOf



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredGodOf/pseuds/FredGodOf
Summary: When Bashir's Genetics are discovered a little earlier he finds his calling on Terak Nor instead of DS9.





	Midnight House Call

“Are you refusing my business, Doctor?” Garak asked.

“I am not, I am simply stating that since you have access to Cardassian Medical facilities, which are much better stocked than my clinic, that you might consider frequenting them instead of summoning me to your shop in the middle of the night.” Bashir answered.

“Ah, but I do understand that you accept payment for your services.”

“I do, when my patients can afford to pay.” Bashir replied and with a final wave he pulled the dermal regenerator away from Garak’s now flawless hand.

“Well I can and I shall.” Garak announced and set a small bag down on the table besides his chair with a solid clink.

Bashir eyed the bag, most of his patients could barely afford to keep themselves and their families fed, if he was paid at all it was often in goods, sometimes useful sometimes just more objects to trip over in the cramped quarters behind the tiny stall he used as a clinic but to be kept in case someone else needed it. Some money came in from Federation sympathizers, but the Cardassians often skimmed most of that off the top, and while several Bajorans connected to the resistance had offered him resources he knew that accepting those would at the least come with expectations in return and at the worst lead to arrest by the Cardassian authorities.

“You’re very young to be away from your people, aren’t you?” Garak asked.

“Twenty five is an adult by Human standards.”

“Yes, but I don’t mean your parents, I mean humans, you’re not as clannish as Vulcans or even Cardassians I might say, but you are prone to staying with your federation, though clearly not for its dress sense, the uniforms are hideous.”

Bashir let out a sigh that produced a wince as he over stretched his battered ribs. “Please don’t pretend you don’t know exactly why I left Federation space, even Rom knows why I’m not welcome there.”

“The little matter of genetic engineering. Of course Cardassians don’t care about that, our entire race went through that three hundred years ago, some still say we lost a diversity of viewpoints when we did, but then doesn’t asking the question imply that we didn’t completely.”

“I’m aware of the Cardassian history of genetic engineering, and I would be delighted to discuss it with you another time, but at the moment I it is very late and I need to do a round of vaccinations in the morning for the new variant of Andorian Measles headed towards this system. Have you had your booster yet?” Bashir tried to chatter as he knelt to stow the dermal regenerator in his bag but found that once he had knelt, the prospect of standing again seemed diffacult.

Garak slipped his hands under Bashir’s arms and carefully helped him up and propped him against the table. 

“Surely something in that bag would help you with those ribs Doctor?”

“I’m sure it would, if the Gul who broke them hadn’t informed me that any attempt to heal them would be result in them being rebroken.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed Garak.” The broken ribs had been in response to Bashir healing a Bajoran resistance leader, but in all fairness Bashir had pointed out that he hadn’t even been able to recognize the woman until after he had healed most of her wounds and could take the time to clean up some of the blood. That rejoinder had resulted in the instruction not to immediately heal the broken bones and the Gul had made a return trip yesterday to insure that he had followed those instructions.

“In that case I may be able to help. I know an ancient Cardassian method for dealing with broken bones that will decrease the risk of injuring yourself further, but won’t cause you to heal enough to displease this unnamed Gul. If you would allow me to remove your shirt?”

Bashir did spend a full minute wondering if this is an oddly direct seduction technique from Garak but dismissed it on the grounds of Garak preferring the chase to any immediate denouement. Bashir held his arms up and let Garak remove his tunic and undershirt. 

The Cardassian’s hands were blessedly cool against the angry sunsets of bruises that covered his chest. Garak seemed to be checking for something. Bashir could assure him that he had at least scanned himself to make certain that he wasn’t about to die from a punctured lung, but he let him complete his examination.

Garak’s next step was to retrieve a small bolt of cloth from a drawer. It shimmered a bit like silk and was thin enough to be translucent but Bashir knew better than to guess what it was. Garak pressed one end against his chest and then began to wind the narrow cloth around and around him, making sure that he kept the tension tight as he moved downwards. He finished by pinning it in place with something that looks like a hat pin.

“It should stay on in a sonic shower, but come back if you need it rewrapped.” Garak explained as he gives a final tug and ran his hands down his handiwork.

Bashir badly wanted to tilt his head against Garak’s shoulder and let the Cardassian hold up his weight. The man had more than once offered to fund Bashir’s clinic, or keep him fed and clothed and entertained without the worry of the clinic. Bashir wouldn't pretend that he’s not tempted, but any Cardassian outright funding the clinic would mean that many of his patients would not visit it and if he shut down there was no one who would be able to take it over.

“Thank you Garak.” Bashir sighed, the wrappings did make it easier to draw a breath.

“Think nothing of it Doctor.” Garak replied as he helped Bashir back into his shirts. “Just remember to wince convincingly when the Gul comes to visit, and perhaps considering joining me for lunch in two days, if you aren’t up to your elbows in fluids at the time of course.”

 

“That will most likely depend on how well the vaccinations go tomorrow. I have support from the officials on this because it will affect productivity, but that doesn’t mean anyone will agree to be inoculated, it is a new vaccine.” Bashir babbled as Garak rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Sleep well Doctor.” Garak dropped the heavy little pouch into Bashir’s pocket.

“Thank you Garak, sleep well.” Bashir swore he feel Garak’s eye on his back for the entire walk back to the clinic, perhaps just trying to determine if the bandages were ruining the line of his tunic, perhaps wondering something more.

**Author's Note:**

> It was either publish this while it was short or leave in the WIPs forever. Might write more later if I continue my rewatch.


End file.
